Chapter Text
As Skinner unpacked his gear, he glanced over at the bed where Krycek lay sprawled across the bed. The younger man was naked already, but instead of teasing Skinner by flaunting his body, he was oddly quiet.
“Something wrong, Alex?” Krycek looked up, startled, as if he’d forgotten someone else was in the room, and Skinner paused with the cuffs in his hand. “Are you not feeling up for this? We can reschedule – “
“No!” Krycek said sharply. He drew in a deep breath and sat up, visibly shaking off whatever was bothering him. “It was a long week.” He smiled wryly. “And boring. Who knew there were so many forms to be filed – in triplicate, most of the time.”
“Government runs on paper,” Skinner said dryly. He sat down on the bed and studied the younger man intently. “I think it’s more than that, though.”
Krycek shrugged. “Didn’t realize there was so much politics involved. You wouldn’t believe all the gossip and back-stabbing.”
“Oh, I believe it.” Skinner got up and finished setting his equipment on the table beside the rack.
“They don’t seem to like Fox Mulder, in particular,” Krycek said casually, his eyes sharply watching Skinner for a reaction. He saw Skinner stiffen for a moment, then deliberately relax as he set a riding crop next to the cuffs.
“Yes, Agent Mulder has more than his share of detractors,” Skinner replied. “Some of it is jealousy, and some – well, Mulder’s methods are…unusual.”
“Does he really believe in aliens?”
Skinner turned sharply and Krycek caught a glimpse of something in the other man’s eyes that revealed his heart and made Krycek feel as if a dagger had been plunged into his. He grasped Krycek by the wrist, pulling him up into a kneeling position on the bed. “I don’t want to talk about work or other agents, boy. I want to hear you begging me to fuck you – after I’ve turned your ass scarlet.”
Krycek clenched his jaw, meeting Skinner’s eyes defiantly. “Oh yeah? Gonna make me – old man.”
Skinner growled and dragged him off the bed toward the rack, exerting the dominance that had always attracted Krycek in the past. But now, Krycek felt something cold and icy form in the pit of his stomach where hope and something close to love had once lived.
Sean perched on the table in the exam room, swinging his legs idly back and forth to distract himself from his surroundings. He had never been fond of doctors, and the past two months had done little to change his mind, no matter how much he personally liked Dr. Lynn. All he wanted to do was get back to the Club and bury himself in his work, and to try to ignore the way Mason looked at him with pity in his eyes each time they met. Perhaps it was time for a quick trip home, to check out his holdings in Australia – a responsible task, and not in the least bit slinking away to lick his wounds.
The door opened and Sean summoned a smile for Dr. Lynn as she entered, chart in hand. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d stood me up or – “ he began, then stopped abruptly at the stricken look in her eyes and the tight set of her mouth. “What is it?”
Lynn took a deep breath and reached out to cover his hand with one of hers. “Sean, your test results have come back, and I’m afraid I have some bad news. You have tested positive for HIV.”
The world went fuzzy around the edges and there was a strange ringing sound in his ears. “AIDS,” Sean said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. “I have AIDS.”
“Not yet,” Lynn said, a determinedly positive note in her voice. “And you may not ever develop full-blown AIDS, Sean. I am going to start you on one of the best of the drug cocktails, get your T-cell count stable. And there are new drug protocols all the time, Sean. It’s no longer an automatic death sentence.”
“Okay.” His mind felt oddly blank and, in a way, relieved. Ever since it had happened, he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and now it had. The worst had happened, and surprisingly enough, he could bear it. In fact, it simplified so many things in his life.
“Here are the prescriptions for the treatment I want to start you on,” Lynn said, handing him a sheaf of papers. “I am making an appointment with a specialist so we can get his opinion on your current situation and map out a treatment plan. And I want you to call Kate and schedule an appointment for today or tomorrow – you may not think it now, but a positive attitude is key to keeping this illness under control. All right?”
“Yes,” Sean said absently. He left the clinic, dropping the stack of papers in the trash can outside, already turning other plans over in his head. He would need to stop by the bank on his way home, get his will and power of attorney out of his safety deposit box. And his shares in the Club – those would need to be signed over to Mason. A few other loose ends, not much, nothing that he couldn’t take care of today.
Entering the bank, he decided that how wouldn’t be an issue. He had nearly a full bottle of the sleeping pills he’d been prescribed to help with insomnia. He’d resisted taking them, not liking how groggy they made him feel in the morning, and now he was glad.
Notes – he’d want to leave clear instructions for the disposition of his personal things not covered in the will. And to say good-bye to Jean-Pierre and Geoffrey – his mind shied away from that as he automatically steered around Dupont Circle. No, he’d stop by Mason’s office and say a proper good-bye; he owed the man that since he was leaving him with a bit of a mess to clean up. Just a quick one, though, or else he’d start blubbering like a baby and Mason would get suspicious.
He wished that he could say good-bye to Walter as well. He’d send him a letter, ask him to keep an eye on Mason after he was gone. He nodded to himself as he parked his car and gave it a last loving caress, then took the elevator to the main floor. Walter would do a good job of that.
Walter Skinner sat at his desk, turning over his new ring in his hands. Hanson had beamed at him as he’d handed over the box the previous afternoon, obviously pleased to be the one to tell him that he’d been made a Senior at the Club. Mason had come out of his office to give him a hug and the three of them had toasted his achievement with Mason’s best whiskey. It would have been the most perfect weekend of the past year if not for…
Alex Krycek.
The young sub had clearly been distracted and distanced all weekend, not his usual feisty and irreverent self. There had been an edge to him, an undercurrent of anger, and Skinner was baffled as to the cause. The weekend had been a disaster, with Alex more difficult and demanding than ever, and possessively jealous the one time they’d ventured out to the Club dining room for lunch. Thinking about their last session, how far Krycek had pushed him, and his own feeling of exhilaration at finally subduing the young sub now left him feeling dirty and tired. In the cold light of day, the memory of the stripes he’d left on Krycek’s body made him uncomfortable.
Before they had parted, Krycek had brought up the subject of a bracelet, clearly angling to be claimed by him, even though a few weeks earlier he had denied wanting that. What had changed his mind? Had he heard a rumor about Skinner’s promotion and wanted to stake a claim before anyone else? Or did this have to do with work and, more specifically, Fox Mulder? For once, his most troublesome agent was the least of his worries – or maybe it was more accurate to say that he had more than one problem agent now.
He looked at the ring again, frowning. Somehow, he had thought that by the time he got to this moment, he’d have a better grasp on himself, and on the subs he played with. Like Mason. But now he felt at a loss and he couldn’t see a clear path ahead of him.
There was a knock on his door and Skinner slipped the ring back on his finger. “Come!” he called out.
His administrative assistant opened the door and stuck her head in. “Sir? Agent Mulder is here to see you about a 302 he’d like approved?”
“Of course he is,” Skinner said, sighing. “Send him in.”
Krycek glanced at the file folder that the smoking man handed him, frowning slightly as the man stubbed out his cigarette in his ashtray before lighting another with the car’s lighter. “A fire? You want me to investigate a fire?”
“It’s more than a simple fire,” the smoker said, blowing out a breath of smoke. “Agent Mulder is interested in it, therefore we are interested in leaning what he finds so fascinating.”
Krycek flipped through the paperwork, what little there was. “He filed a 302 but it hasn’t been approved.”
“It will be,” the smoker said confidently. “I have seen to it that you’ve been added to the case as well.”
Krycek closed the folder and handed it back. “Why?” he asked flatly.
“Because we want you to work with Agent Mulder. Become his partner. His friend. Steer him away from his former partner, Agent Scully.” He drew in another breath through his cigarette. “And there are elements of this case that we would prefer to have under our control.”
“You still haven’t told me who ‘we’ are.”
“Do well on this assignment, Alex, and I promise to change that. Bring you into the fold, under my protection – and my personal attention.”
Krycek tried not to shiver at the possessive tone to the smoker’s voice.
Sean sealed the last letter in its envelope and addressed it, then carefully set out the papers on his desk. His will, his power of attorney, the shares of the Club, all were neatly arranged on one side of the desk. The envelopes were laid out next to them, one for Walter and another for Jean-Pierre, and then his final instructions and wishes, addressed to Mason. Everything else was tidied away, no files to have to clean up, no unfinished business.
Except for one last task.
He drew in a deep breath and stood. His legs felt a little shaky and his stomach queasy – were those symptoms? Not that it mattered; just one more task, and then he could finish this. Permanently.
"Geoff?"
Mason looked up from his desk to see Sean standing in the doorway to his office, a sad, wistful look on his face. "Sean - is there something I can do for you?"
"No. I just - I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me. When Da got sick and all. And - and finding me when...you know."
"You don't need to thank me, Sean. It was my pleasure."
Sean nodded. "Yes. Well - I just wanted you to know." He turned and walked down the hallway.
Mason turned back to his paperwork but he was unable to concentrate. Something was wrong, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. His phone rang and he absently answered it.
"Geoffrey, it's Kate Malone. Have you seen Sean?"
"Yes, about fifteen minutes ago. Why?"
"He was supposed to come to my office. We were going to discuss his test results and what support he'll need now, but he never showed."
"Test results?" Mason asked sharply. "What test results?"
There was a surprised silence on the other end. "He didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
Kate cleared her throat. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask Sean - I can't reveal medical information without his permission except to family - "
"Shit," Mason breathed as comprehension hit him and the world shifted on its access. Memory of that odd conversation hit him and his heart slammed painfully. "Kate, send an ambulance here immediately. I think he's going to try to kill himself." He slammed down the phone and raced down the hallway, not bothering to knock on Sean’s suite door before using his master key. He raced through the living room - tidy with a collection of envelopes laid out on the desk - and into the bedroom. Sean lay sprawled across the bed, his breathing shallow. On the nightstand sat an empty glass and an empty pill bottle.
"Don't do this to me, Sean!" He pulled the younger man into a sitting position, slapping his face until the younger man blinked his eyes open. "Come on, baby - fight it."
"Geoff?" The voice was slurred and weak.
"Yeah, it's me, baby." He scooped up the younger man and carried him into the bathroom where he ruthlessly forced the younger man to throw up into the toilet. Then he dragged Sean into the shower, ignoring the fact that they both were fully clothed, and turned on the cold water full blast. Sean swore weakly and struggled but he was too sleepy to fight the older man.
"Don't go back to sleep, Sean!" Mason demanded. "Don’t you dare, or I'll paddle your ass so hard - "
Sean gave a weak chuckle. "Damn it," he murmured. "If I'd have known this was what it took to get you to talk like that to me again…"
"Brat," Mason said, then cuddled the younger man closer to his chest, stroking the soaking wet curls on his head. “I’m so sorry, Sean. I didn’t know what to do,” he admitted. “It hurt so much to watch you walk around here in such pain, and not be able to do anything to help.”
“Can’t help,” Sean murmured, his eyes closing. “Geoff…dying…”
“No, you’re not,” Mason said fiercely. “I won’t let you. Do you hear me, Sean? Whatever it is, we’ll fight it together.”
Sean’s eyes fluttered open. “Together?” he breathed.
Mason nodded and decided to hell with timing or anything else. “Sean, I l- “
“EMT!” called a voice from the living room, and Mason wanted to curse their timing but he was also relieved. "In here!"
He cut off the shower water and pulled back the curtain as an EMT stuck his head in the doorway. "He's taken pills,” Mason told him. “The bottle's on the nightstand. I made him throw up but it's been about thirty minutes since he took them."
The man nodded. “We’ll take it from here, sir.”
His partner appeared and the two of them lifted Sean out of Mason’s arms (and he had to fight his instinct to grab Sean back) and laid him on the gurney. One of them began checking his vital signs while the other started an IV and began administering fluids. In a short while, Sean was being wheeling out of the Club on a gurney. Mason followed, wrapped in a blanket hastily pulled off Sean’s bed over his wet clothes, watching as they loaded Sean in the ambulance. It took off, lights and siren blaring, as he numbly watched, unable to move.
A hand grasping his shoulder brought him back to awareness, and he turned his head to see Walter Skinner looking at him in concern. “Piglet? What are you doing here?”
“Hanson called me.” Skinner frowned. “You’re soaking wet; we’d better get you out of these clothes and into something dry.”
Mason allowed himself to be herded back to his room, stripped and ruthlessly towel-dried before he finally roused himself enough to take the towel to his own hair. “You don’t need to do this, Walter. I cut you lose, remember?”
“I’m family, Geoff – remember?” Skinner handed him a small glass of whiskey. “Drink this. I think you need a shot.”
Mason accepted the glass. “And you’ve hidden the bottle so that a shot is all I get, right?” Skinner gave him a tight smile that told him he was right. “You know me too well.”
“What happened, Geoff?”
Mason stared down at the contents of his glass. "Sean tried to kill himself, Walter." He tossed back the drink and grimaced.
"I know. Hanson couldn't tell me why, though. Was it because of what happened - the assault?"
Mason snorted. "Yeah. I guess you could say that. I’m pretty certain that his last blood tests came back HIV positive."
"God - Geoff, I'm so sorry."
Mason drew in a deep breath. "He came to my office. He thanked me - he actually thanked me for helping him when his father died, and for finding him. I thought it seemed strange, but I never thought." He looked down at the glass and his hand tightened around it. “God-dammit. God-dammit to hell.”
Skinner carefully pried the glass from his hand before he broke it. “Get dressed, Master Geoff. I’ll drive you to the hospital – you’ll want to be there when they allow him visitors.”
Mason nodded and went to find something dry to put on, and tried not to think about what he would say to Sean when he woke up.